Wednesday, December 14, 2011

I've been told by many readers that this is their favorite story of mine. It's also apparently a tear-jerker. And I'll confess...even I get teared up each time I re-read the scene where Cory's leaving a message on his sister's phone.

******

When his young niece Bailey moves in, Cory knows he needs to end his casual fling with Ken. Bailey’s had enough upheaval in her short life, and Cory doesn't want her to get attached to a “friend” who won't be sticking around. Even so, Cory finds himself continuing to let Ken into his life, but a one-night-stand gone serial isn’t what Cory wants, and so he makes The List: his requirements for the perfect partner.

Helping out during a difficult time, Ken finds himself being pulled into the family unit despite Cory’s previous emotional distance. He hopes he's finally breaking through, on the verge of convincing Cory to make their relationship more than a casual one. Then, while helping Bailey write to Santa, he finds Cory's list and takes it as his cue to bow out—just when Cory needs him the most.

******

“I threw up.”

The quavering voice brought Corbin jackknifing up out of a sound sleep, struggling to get his bearings.

“Oh, for Christ’s sake.” This in a disgruntled, groaning whisper from Ken on the other side of the bed.

Well, that helped settle who the participants were. And apparently something was going to have to be done about Ken—soon—but first things first. He pulled Bailey into a sour-smelling and unfortunately damp hug, resting his cheek against her extremely hot temple. Oh man.

“Where’s your mom?”

“Don’t know. I threw up on my bed.” The tears were starting, and God knew that wouldn’t help matters any.

“Do you want to sleep with the throw up or should I change your sheets?”

A watery giggle. “Change them.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes! Uncle Corrrry….”

“Okay, okay.” He stood, glad that he’d had the foresight to put on his pajama pants after he’d fielded the booty call-turned-sleepover Ken probably now wished he hadn’t insisted on. Picking Bailey up—man she was scorching all over—he walked her into the hall bathroom, trying to remember what his mom had done for them when they were sick.

He flipped on the light, and then turned it back off again when Bailey winced and cried out. Turning the hall light on instead, he saw that there would definitely need to be a wardrobe change. He grimaced at the damp spot on his shirt. For both of us. He carefully pulled the nightie over her head backwards, taking care not to get any throw-up from the nightie into her hair or anything and tossed it in the sink for lack of a better plan.

“Do you think you could take a bath?”

“Don’t know. I’m cold.”

She was anything but cold, but she was shivering, so he wrapped a towel around her. “You sit here on the rug.” He sat her on the floor in front of the toilet. “I’m going to change your bed and get another nightie, okay? I’ll be right back.”

Becky was nowhere to be seen. Must’ve gotten a phone call of her own, he thought, and then cringed. He so did not want to think of his little sister in drunk dial terms. He hustled to strip the bed and remade it with the last sheet. Looking at it dubiously, he added a few beach towels for layers. At least if she continued to throw up, she wouldn’t get to the sheet until—he counted—the fourth time.

Arms bundled full of the abused bedding, a clean nightie dangling from his one clean finger, he almost ran into Ken coming down the hall. Fully dressed and apparently fleeing the scene.

Cory felt a swell of anger, even as he recognized it was unrealistic—after all, why would Ken stick around? Sex was obviously out for the rest of the night, and that was the sum total of their relationship to date. He ruthlessly suppressed the vulnerable twinge at being abandoned and kept walking. Good riddance. Guess now that Bailey was living here, he was going to have to add “Likes Kids” to The List.

Ken reared back to avoid the collision. “Whoa.”

Cory didn’t even stop, just veered around him. “See ya.”

“Hey! What’s your problem?” Ken actually sounded like he believed he was the injured party. Amazing.

“Just a puking kid in my bathroom, and an asshole in my hallway.”

He caught snippets of the defensive response but tuned it out, dumping his armload in the laundry room sink. A thought occurred to him, and he went back out to the hallway.

“Hey, can you go to the all-night drugstore for me?”

Ken’s jaw dropped. “Are you joking? You just called me an asshole.”

Cory ignored the hint of hurt in the other man’s eyes, defiantly covering his guilt with bravado and purpose. “What can I say? You’re acting like one. I need ginger ale and some kinda sports drink. And crackers, the soup kind. And, uh, kids’ Ibuprofen, fever reducer—whatever kind they have for a five-year old.”

Ken was just staring at him and Cory stared back for the count of three before throwing his hands up in disgust. “Fine. Would you rather stay here with her while I go?”

That jolted his guest out of his trance. “What? No. I’ll go.” He looked a bit surprised at his own response, and Cory helpfully steered him toward the front door.

“Keep your cell phone on in case I think of anything else I need. Oh, and popsicles. Hurry back.” He turned on his heel and headed back to the ominously quiet bathroom.

Poor Bailey was curled up in a ball on the bathmat, shivering under the towel. Wetting a washcloth, he gently bathed her, trying to simultaneously clean her up and cool her down. An unmistakable rumble preceded a violent heaving, and he neatly turned and supported her, holding her hair back while she emptied the contents of her stomach into the toilet.

Once she quieted, tears streaking down her face, eyes glassy with fever, he sponge-bathed her once again and helped her into the sleep shirt. His phone rang in the other room. He propped a quiescent Bailey against the tub and hurried to grab it. Ken.

“I’m about at the checkout. Did you think of anything else?” At this point, the concern in his voice, while a little late in coming, was much appreciated.

“No, but thanks. Just come in when you get back, I’ll be up in Bailey’s room.”

“Okay.” There was a pause as if Ken wanted to say more, but then he said goodbye and hung up.

While he had the phone in his hand, he dialed Becky’s cell. The Black Eyed Peas started singing about tonight being a good night down the hall. Shit, why did he even pay for her cell phone? She never took it with her when it counted.

A few minutes later, he had his niece tucked back in, a big bowl by her bed—although he wasn’t sure she was of an age yet where she could reliably use it. The front door opened and closed in a hurry, followed by steps thumping quickly up the stairs.

“Hey there, sorry it took so long.” Ken was slightly out of breath and carrying two paper grocery sacks. He put them down and started rummaging. “Here’s the Tylenol. There’s some weight chart on it. Very important. Do you know how much she weighs?”

“Crap. No.” He turned to Bailey. “Honey, how much do you weigh?”

“Don’t know.” Popular response tonight.

“Okay, babe, we’re going for a short ride to my bathroom. Upsy-daisy.” Cory picked her up and amused himself trying to mentally guess her weight—how much did a bag of concrete weigh?—while he walked into his bathroom, kicking the button to turn on his digital scale with his foot.

When it zeroed itself, he stepped on, holding her and waited for it to beep.

“Two hundred and thirty two,” Ken read helpfully.

“Ack! Oh well. At least I get to lose the baby weight instantly. Here you go.” He placed Bailey into Ken’s arms, disregarding his look of alarm, and reset the scale. A bit of mental math later, and Bailey was proclaimed to be “about fifty.” Which of course was what he’d thought she’d be. Really.

Cory led the way back to Bailey’s room, leaving the tall, well-muscled Ken to carry her back in while he smoothed out the towels. Division of labor. “Hold her up for a sec while I read this.”

“See, there on the side.”

He frowned, squinting at the box in an effort to read the tiny instructions. “What if the age and weight don’t match?”

“The guy said to go by weight. Well, first he said call her doctor. But I wasn’t sure if you knew who it was, so I made him tell me the secret.” Ken sounded very proud of himself, and Cory felt himself thawing a bit toward him. He was redeeming himself nicely so far tonight, and really, who likes getting woken up by a sick kid? Ken’s reaction hadn’t been that bad.

Cory shifted uncomfortably. Truth be told, it was Cory who had overreacted. He had Ken mentally classified as an occasional, casual fuck-buddy. Yeah, a smoking hot one, and nicer about it than most, but he wasn’t really partner material—which is what Cory really wanted. It was probably past time to cut this fling off, something he’d been telling himself ever since the girls had moved in, but it was hard to walk away from the amazing sexual chemistry they shared.

Cory squared his shoulders resolutely. Sure, right now Ken was looking less like a fuck and more like a… boyfriend? But in the light of day, well, he’d be like Scarlett and think about that tomorrow.

Speaking of tomorrow, he was going to chew his sister a new one for leaving for God-knows-where without a word and putting them all through this.

Bailey swallowed the grape medicine without complaint and then just sat there, sagging.

“Alright, Bails, tuck-a-muck time.”

“Okay,” came the dispirited response, so unlike her usual begging for a game or a story or a drink. Cory’s heart flopped over, and he gave her a light hug and kissed her heated forehead, laying the damp washcloth across it as a last measure. Standing to go, he was surprised to see Ken moving to kiss her cheek.

Aww.

In the hallway, Ken gave him an uncertain look. Cory shrugged in response to the unvoiced question and led the way back to his bedroom, trying not to care whether Ken stayed or went. The door closed and Ken hovered by the bed.

“Do you have some extra pajama bottoms I could borrow? In case we have to get up with her again.”

Cory’s heart did that floppy thing again at the “we.” Ugh. Just when he’d gone and crossed Ken off the roster, he had to go and get all chivalrous. There were no easy decisions in life. Especially when people were inconsistent.

A thought hit him, and he perked up as he tossed Ken his largest sweats. None of Cory’s pajamas would have fit his athletic ass and legs, never mind without looking like high waters.

Consistent. Another thing to add to the list. Cory smiled to himself. He’d get the qualifiers honed in on sooner or later, and then the man who met all the criteria? Viola. His perfect match.

The day will run from 9 a.m. to 5 p.m. CST in the Ethan Day Yahoo Group where we’ll be posting excerpts, running contests for free books, and chatting about all the new and upcoming releases from your favorite authors.

Thursday, December 8, 2011

...Or as I titled it in 2009, Small Freakin' World: Hey, I KNOW Him!! Here's the post from the past two years and a video I still love!! I was going to save this story for next Way Back Wednesday, but couldn't wait to share after the OTHER video (see below). :D

(Original post 12-17-09)

Talk about my two worlds colliding!Okay, this all started when Brynn Paulin randomly posted this great video on her blog. I watched it, loved it, and proceeded to spread the joy.Then my friend Melia watched it and said, "Oh, it's great, and you do realize Brad's in this, right?"HUH?I totally spread around this video not even knowing that one of my friends "in real life" is one of the dancers! So bizarre!!Anyway, when Brad was performing with the Rockettes' Christmas show about 5-6 years ago, the guys in the show got together and made this up as a Christmas present for the rockettes. This is their performance for the gals, who you can hear doing all the screaming throughout!Now I see him dancing every week...at my daughters' dance academy just down the road. He brings all that enthusiasm and talent to the fore every single day working with the dancers of tomorrow, and he does a fabulous job doing it!

Melia, me and Brad--holidays 2010

Back to "now", here's me with Melia and Brad out on the town about a year ago. When you watch the video, he's towards the far end (away from the camera) with a white shirt and long dark scarf on. He's just astounded not only that this is still around but also how popular it is. LOL, why wouldn't it be? Watch and see for yourself, and give Brad and his crew some love. I'll be sure to pass it on! :D

For more Christmas smiles, here is a video Brad shared on FB today that got me in the holiday spirit!

Wednesday, December 7, 2011

Way Back Wednesdayis a new, regular weekly blog feature I'm starting today. I'll either be putting up blog posts from days gone by or perhaps revisiting one of my older releases.

Today, I'm mixing the two together with a post that I originally did for another blog back in February of 2010, where I interviewed Kim and Abe from my 2009 Advent Calendar release,Silver and Gold Check it out...

Me: Ah yes, Kim and Abe. Since they are close friends, I've decided to talk about both of them. Or rather, let them talk about themselves.

Kim: And just so we're clear, Abe and I are not together. He's into outies.

Abe: Or they're into me.

Me: Okay then. How did you guys meet?

Kim: Um. Why does he get a picture and I don't?

Abe: Sweetheart, you're a secondary character. That means you don't get on the cover. If it makes you feel better, it isn't my most flattering look. That shirt? Please. Grey is so not my color.

Kim: At least people get a visual of you! I'm just this nebulous image floating around.

Me: Would it make you feel better if I put up a picture that looks like you? I had an interviewer ask me this week if I could cast a movie of this story, which actors I would pick to play you guys.

Abe: *claps hands* Ooh, who did you pick for me?

Kim: *gasps* No you didn't. Now you want a second picture? You bitch.

Abe: Okay, okay, just curious, so shoot me. Who did you pick for Kim? There, is that better?

Kim: *pouting* Depends on who it is. Duh.

Me: Okay, here you go:

Abe: Now girlfriend, you've gotta be happy with Eva Mendes.

Kim: She'll do. But that's a bit tousled for me. I'd be into your salon like yesterday.

Me: And since we're on the topic, here's Abe. And Kim, he's the main character, so can you let the whole two-picture thing go?

Kim: You know, I hear her talking to me like I'm totally unreasonable, and I have no idea where the attitude came from.

Abe: Much better, and see? Look how much bigger yours is. And you call me the size queen.

Me: Let me give some examples of what great friends you are? Like from when Geoff still hadn't clued in to how lucky he was to have Abe fall into his lap, so to speak, and was still living in the past.

********

ABE gratefully accepted the huge latte from Kim and tried once more to convince her to leave. He had thought he’d been successful on the phone in persuading her not to come see him, but she had bribed him with an “extra” coffee that she just happened to have.

Abe, you’re such a slut for coffee, and apparently everyone knows it.

“I’m fine,” he repeated yet again. “Really.” And he smiled to emphasize how “fine” he was.

“Abe, get that ugly excuse for a smile off your face and tell me what’s wrong. What happened with you and Geoff?”

“Tenacious little thing, aren’t you?”

“Tenacious, yes. Little, hell no. Thing?” She gave him an arch look.

“Sorry, babe. You were the one who insisted upon seeing me before I’m caffeinated.”

“Meow. That actually almost sounded like the real you.” She softened her expression. “What happened, Abe?”

********

Abe: Yeah, that was a tough day. Kim about burst a blood vessel when I told her what happened with the phone call I overheard. She threatened to quit.

Kim: I knew right away that wasn't the best move. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer. And, boss of ten years or not, he was so going down if he fucked you over.

********

“Well, all I can say is my former boss won’t be getting any ass from you if it takes having to duct tape you to my bedroom door.” She pulled out her phone and dialed, her eyes flashing.

“Don’t worry, I’m not quitting. I’ve decided I’m going to stay and make his life a living hell while I run his business into the ground.” She gave Abe an evil smile and left a terse message saying that she would be using a sick day and hung up.

Abe watched her warily. “What are you doing?”

Kim smiled more naturally. “Just going to help you pack for your trip and keep you company until you leave.” She waited a beat. “And keep you from going to his office, and him from coming up here,” she admitted.

Abe gave her a hug. “You’re a good friend, my dear.”

She hugged him back. “You don’t hate me because I fixed you two up?”

********

Me: That was so sweet.

(They both look at me in horror.)

Kim: Sweet?

Abe: Let me take this one, babe. (To me) Kim doesn't do sweet. She's more scary, hell-on-wheels, true-blue. Loyal as shit, but evil. In a good way.

Me: Do you guys still hang out now that Abe and Geoff have worked through things?

Kim: Hell, yes. Closer than ever. *smiles dangerously* I've got his back, especially since I know everything that's going on with the boss.

Abe: And I've got hers. She was insultingly underpaid until I spoke up.

Me: A lot of readers want to see more of you two. Do you think there will be another book in the future?

Abe: Babe? Isn't that up to you? You're the writer.

Me: Well, yes, but I can only write the stories you guys share with me.

Kim: Oh, you want more? Abe, get us some coffee...

********

Read more about Kim and Abe in Silver & Gold, available in e-book from Dreamspinner Press.

Monday, December 5, 2011

Made up words. Slang. Colloquialisms. Words that should be...but aren't.

To seriously rile up by-the-book proofreaders, throw a few inventively descriptive words into a manuscript (or leave them in, if you're the content editor), and watch the red markups, comments and links to thefreedictionary or allwords fly.

There have certainly been times when I've hit upon a word in a manuscript I'm editing, snorted and diplomatically commented "Word choice?" or "Different word here?", all the while thinking to myself, "Nice try." But every once in a while, the word just fits, even if you can't find it anywhere but the Urban Dictionary...and sometimes not even there.

In a near-future book I recently edited, the author used the word "technofied" as an adjective a character used to mentally describe a gadget within his POV. I left it as such, since a) it was clear what was meant, and b) the character was thinking this in his head, so who am I to say he'd word it more properly in his head? He had already been established as lacking a certain polish, and it seemed to fit the characterization. Of course, the proofreader jumped all over that with a grammatically correct example of what it "should" be. (FYI, I added my own comment to the effect that it was the author's choice before passing it along.)

In another instance, an author had a character use the term "ass-hat" to describe someone. This, while slangy, seemed to me to be a perfectly reasonable term for a character to use. I've heard it many times IRL before (not directed at me thankfully! lol). However, another editor on the manuscript had never heard the term before. In that instance, should the author switch to a more familiar insult?

Readers aren't stupid--they don't need to be bashed over the head with the obvious, and they can certainly make out non-traditional words mean, ie the above two examples, continue to read along, accept the meaning in context, and not have it detract from their enjoyment of the book. But of course, that's my take and I'm just one person. I'm really interested to see what other readers think about this. :)

So my question to all of you is, will the use of a word that is either made up or not known by you pull you out of a story? Do you appreciate an author's creativity in not sticking with the same old words? Or do you find it distracting? For authors, do you occasionally throw something different out there, or is the dictionary your best friend?

PS: I have successfully applied to have a word added to the Urban Dictionary. So maybe it's just a question of taking the words you make up as an author and credifying them... Hmm... :D